


But you're human tonight

by Ischa



Series: Young Gods [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Loss of Powers, M/M, Marking, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 11:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11463036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: The one in which Clark wakes up human one day. Of course he asks Bruce for  help.It was so strange that he couldn’t hear Alfred or his heartbeat in the kitchen. All his senses felt dulled. It was unnerving. He remembered that he had wished for this a long time ago as a kid, but now it only left him feeling crippled.





	But you're human tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Icalynn. <3  
> I got this idea while I was listening to 'Young God', that's where the title is from too.

~One~

“Superman is down!” That was Batman's voice Clark was hearing as he fell out of the sky like a stone. He didn't even know what hit him. One minute, he was up above and trying to reach Batman down on the street – even if he knew that Batman could hold his own – the next he was falling. 

~+~

Clark came to groggily. He blinked, he could hear hushed voices nearby and made a noise so they knew he was awake. He was in a hospital room. Why was he in a hospital? He didn't need anyone to know that he wasn't human and surely his bloodwork-

“Clark,” Mom said and she sounded so worried. 

“I'm fine,” Clark replied, but he wasn't. He ached. What the hell? Why did he ache? What was this? 

“You don't really look fine,” Bruce said. 

“Bruce,” Clark said with relief. He didn't know why he felt relieved that Bruce was here, because really, they could hardly be called friends. Even after him coming back from the dead – or maybe because, he hadn't ever had the opportunity to ask Bruce that question. Or maybe he hadn't asked the question because he hadn't wanted an answer to it.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Clark looked from him to his mom. Something didn't feel right. Something about Bruce, something about this whole situation, something – he bit his lip and looked at his mother. “What happened?” 

“You collapsed and Mister Wayne saw and drove you to the hospital. He stayed until I came,” she smiled at Bruce. 

What? “What?” Clark asked. 

“It was nothing really and Alfred did all the driving anyway,” Bruce replied, breezily. It was his Bruce Wayne persona. And Clark kind of hated it, because he had gotten used to Bruce's real gruff self. Or the self he presented to Clark during League missions and training. He was wholly different with Diana. 

“Yes, I get that. Why am I at the hospital?” Clark asked. 

Bruce looked at him like he had been dropped on the head one time too many as a child. “Because you collapsed on the sidewalk, Mister Kent.” 

“But I can't be here. Did they take my blood?” 

Now his mom was looking worried too. “Clark, yes, of course.” 

“Shit,” Clark replied. “I really need to – go.” He tried to get out of the bed, but his body wasn't cooperating with him. He felt weak and he hurt everywhere. 

His mother was at his side in a flash and – The Flash, Clark thought. Hadn't he been involved in that disaster that brought him here in the first place? 

“I don't think you should do that, Clark,” mom said. 

“I agree with your mother, Mister Kent,” Bruce cut in, helping his mother get Clark back into bed. 

“Why are you calling me that?” Clark asked frustrated. 

“Because that is your name, Mister Kent? Do you know what year it is? Who the president is?”

“2017,” Clark said and then added, “That idiot businessman.” 

Bruce smiled wryly. “Correct both times.” 

“Okay, so I don't have amnesia,” Clark said, letting his head rest on the pillow. But something was wrong with him. Or everyone else. Clark didn't know yet, but he was going to play along for now. 

“It doesn't seem so,” Bruce replied. He was looking at Clark with an unusual intensity. Clark didn't know if he liked it or not. Clark was saved from doing anything at all by the doctor's arrival in the room. Bruce backed away to the furthest corner while his mom took Clark's hand. 

Clark listened to the doctor telling them that he hadn't found anything that indicated something serious was going on, but he did fix Clark with a stern look and told him to eat more, because his blood work seemed a bit wonky. Of course he didn't use those terms, but that was what it came down to. 

Clark looked at the small wounds on his hands and raised his eyebrows in question. 

“Yes, those you got when you fell down on the pavement, Mister Kent. That's where the bruise on your cheek is coming from as well. In fact all the small wounds. Should heal in no time at all.” 

And it hit Clark then, he wasn't healing like he should. The doctors hadn't found anything strange about his blood work. They had drawn his blood – which: he should have realized that earlier. They had been able to stick a needle into his arm. That was not normal. At least not for him. 

“Do you want any painkillers?” The doctor asked. 

Clark shook his head, because no, they had never worked on him anyway. Shaking his head was not a good idea, however, because it drove home that it was hurting too. He winced. 

“Are you sure, Clark?” Mom asked. 

He looked at her and then to Bruce. Who hadn't said anything, but who hadn't left either. 

“No, I'm not. I'm sorry, I'm...” he trailed off. He had no idea how to end that sentence.

Human, he thought. I'm human. He closed his eyes. He was not. He was not. He could not be. But all signs pointed in that direction. How the hell? How the hell had this happened? His breathing picked up. 

“Clark!” Mom said, worried now. He was listening for her heartbeat, but it wasn't there. He couldn’t hear it. 

“I want to go home,” Clark said. Because all this was freaking him out and no one seemed to be alarmed by it, except for Clark himself. 

The doctor frowned. “You can of course go home, as we couldn’t find the reason why you collapsed this morning, but I would like you to stay one more night so we could run more tests.” 

“No,” Clark said, “Thank you, but no. I haven't been eating like a real person lately and that’s probably it and stress,” he added, because that was normal. He was a reporter and it could sometimes be dangerous and certainly stressful. “I'll take the pain medication.” 

The doctor nodded, wrote a prescription and handed it to his mother. “Wise decision, Mister Kent. If you should collapse again, please see a doctor at once.” 

“Sure,” Clark replied, easily. 

Once the doctor was gone, Bruce stepped away from the wall and shook mom's hand. “I see Mister Kent is in good hands now. So I will take my leave.” 

Clark wanted to protest, but it seemed that Bruce had no idea that he and Clark had a past. That they had issues, that they were working together. Was Bruce Batman here? Clark needed to find that out. He also needed to find Diana. 

“Thank you again for helping Clark,” mom said with a smile. 

Bruce smiled back. “It was nothing, Misses Kent.” 

“Thank you, Bruce,” Clark said and got another look from Bruce. 

It occurred to Clark then, that they didn't know each other here. That this was their first meeting. It was – a mindfuck. That was what this was and he needed to find a way back to his own life. 

“You are welcome, Mister Kent,” Bruce said and held out his hand to him. 

Clark shook it, cataloging the feeling of Bruce's hand, and then Bruce left and Clark felt a vague sense of loss and panic. 

Mom hugged him. “You really need to take better care of yourself. I know it has been hard on you to lose Lois, but Clark,” she looked him sternly in the eyes, “Breaking up is not the end of the world.” 

Clark nodded, filing that information away. Well, he couldn’t talk to Lois then, because it seemed that their breakup was recent. And why the hell was he broken up with Lois? Did it really matter? He knew that he and Lois were – well, on shaky ground in the real world, really, because he had been dead for a while. And she had moved on, but he had thought that they were slowly getting to where they used to be. 

“I know mom. I'm sorry...everything seems just so – overwhelming.” 

She hugged him once more. “I understand.” 

“I just want to get out of here and home.” 

“Yes. You should get dressed then,” she said with a small smirk. 

Clark groaned inwardly. Great. Bruce Wayne had seen him in a flimsy hospital gown. Shit. 

He stood up carefully and grabbed the clothes his mother had brought for him and went to the small bathroom to change. 

As he was washing up and putting on his clothes, he wondered why mom had been in Metropolis in the first place. Was she living here? Was dad still alive? Why had Bruce Wayne been in Metropolis? He needed a laptop and internet access. As soon as possible and coffee. 

~+~

He was surprised to be honest that his apartment was still his apartment. Of course, it wasn't the one he had been sharing with Lois before he died, but it was the one over the small bookshop/coffee-place he had had for over four months now. This apartment was furnished a bit differently, but it was still his. His landlord was the same guy who ran the bookshop downstairs. Everything was the same, except that once Clark arrived at the top of the stairs and in front of his door he was out of breath. Mom looked at him worriedly and he put a smile on. 

“I'm fine,” he said collapsing into the nearest chair. 

“Right,” Mom replied, already getting busy in the kitchen. Making tea. 

“So...mom,” Clark rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't know how to even start this conversation. 

She turned to him. “You bullshitted the doctor Clark.” 

“Well...” Clark replied, only mildly shocked at her language. 

“There is something more to your collapse, isn't there? And you kept calling Mister Wayne, Bruce, like you knew him.” 

“I know him,” Clark replied. “Or I used to. I don't know...I...” he stared at his hands again, those small scratches, already scabbed over. “I'm human.” 

His mother gave him a look. “Yes, like the rest of us, my dear boy.” 

Clark knew that wasn't true, couldn’t be true. He wasn't human. Diana...Diana was half goddess and half mystical Amazon. And Barry. Clark rubbed his hand over his face. One thing after another. Baby steps in this strange new world. 

Mom handed him a mug of tea and he took it without thinking. It was hot to the touch. “Shit.” 

“Clark,” she said. “How much do you remember?” 

“I...there is a hole where things used to be,” Clark admitted. “But I didn't want to worry anyone.” 

She sighed. “I am worried.” 

“I know. I'm sorry. Why were you in the city?” 

“You invited me,” she said. 

Oh, okay, so that meant that she was still living on the farm and he invited only her; which meant that dad was still dead. Clark bit his lip. “And I'm glad you're staying here.” 

She took a sip of her tea. “Ask away, Clark.” 

Clark thought about it for a second, but really, he knew his mother, she would not harm him, so he did. 

After an hour he had all the information he needed to navigate this new world, what he didn't know was how he had ended up here and if Bruce or Diana were feeling the same disconnection he was feeling. As Diana was living and back in Paris, France, Bruce was definitely closer. A ferry would take him there. Clark needed answers. 

 

~Two~

Clark made it to the gate just fine. The taxi driver had given him a look when he told him the address, but got Clark to his destination, and now he was standing in front of the gate and his palms were sweating with nerves. In the past, he would have not even stopped at the gate. He would have flown right over it and landed in front of the door, or back out on the deck to the lake. 

Now he took a deep breath and pushed the bell. Chances were good he would be left standing here, ignored, like a pesky reporter maybe. Shit, he hadn't thought this through at all. 

“Yes?” Alfred asked. 

“Alfred, I'm here to see Bruce,” Clark said and then smacked himself over his head mentally. Alfred probably didn't even know who he was. “I mean, I'm Clark Kent. Mister Wayne helped me three days ago when I collapsed and I was wondering if I could talk to him about it?” 

Alfred's face was a blank mask, but then he nodded. “I will ask Master Wayne if he has time right now.” 

“Thank you,” Clark said and waited. 

He didn't have to wait too long and the gate was opened for him. It took Clark ten minutes to arrive at the front door. He knocked gently and Alfred let him in. He didn’t smile. It was weird; he had always been welcomed warmly by Alfred before. But then, this Alfred probably didn't know him. 

“Mister Kent,” Bruce said from the door to the deck. 

“Bru-, Mister Wayne,” Clark replied, holding out his hand, which Bruce took. “Please call me Clark. Thank you for seeing me.” 

Bruce let go of his hand and gestured to the sofa. “Can I offer you a drink?” 

“Tea? If you have any?” Clark asked. He rather enjoyed tea. 

“Alfred?” Bruce asked. 

“Sure,” Alfred replied and left them alone. 

It was so strange that he couldn’t hear Alfred or his heartbeat in the kitchen. All his senses felt dulled. It was unnerving. He remembered that he had wished for this a long time ago as a kid, but now it only left him feeling crippled. 

“I have to admit I was surprised to hear you were standing outside my gates, Mister Kent.” 

“Clark, please.” 

Bruce gave him a sharp look, but then nodded. He didn't offer Clark his first name, but then Clark wasn't really surprised. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to ask you about the day I collapsed. I have to admit that I don't remember anything before I woke up at Metropolis General Hospital.” 

Bruce nodded and relaxed a fraction. “I see.” 

“I was hoping you could fill in a few blanks,” Clark added, just as Alfred came back with tea for him and coffee for Bruce. 

“Will you be needing anything else, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked. 

Bruce shook his head. “No, thank you, Alfred.” 

“Very well, Sir,” Alfred replied and left them again. 

Clark imagined the man didn’t go far. Alfred had a protective streak a mile wide when it came to Bruce.

Clark took a careful sip of his tea and waited. Let Bruce study him for a few moments. 

“I was heading to my car, on the other side of the street, when you collapsed right in front of me.” 

Clark blinked. “Right in front of you?” 

“Yes, right in front of me. One second, you were just walking and the next, you were looking at me sideways and then you were tilting and falling. I tried to catch you before your face hit the ground, but I wasn't fast enough.” 

“And you brought me to the hospital?” 

“Yes, we got you into the car and drove there.” 

“Why?” 

Bruce looked thrown for a second. “Why?” 

“Yes, why?” Clark asked again. 

“Because you had just collapsed, Mister Kent, and it was the decent thing to do. I realize that my reputation isn't the best, but surely you-”

“No,” Clark cut in, waving a hand, “I don't mean that. I mean, why didn't you call an ambulance and left me in their care? Why did you drive me to the hospital? Why did you stay until my mother arrived? Why did you stay after?” 

Bruce put his cup down gently. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I've been asking myself that for three days.” 

“Is that why you let me in?” Clark asked. 

“Maybe,” Bruce replied. 

Clark hummed, because he didn't have an answer either, at least not a crazy one. Or one Bruce would think was crazy.

“You kept calling me by my first name,” Bruce added. 

“Sorry?” 

“In the car on the way to the hospital, you woke up for a few seconds and you called me Bruce.” 

Clark smiled. “I don’t remember that.” 

“Later when you woke up in the hospital, you called me by my first name too.” 

“Yes,” Clark said, because he remembered that. “Sorry about that.” He said, but he wasn't sorry and the way Bruce's lip curled just slightly told him that Bruce knew that he wasn't sorry. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Clark gave himself a moment to think about that. He was tempted to tell him the truth. “I – I feel like we've known each other, I guess.” 

Bruce's face closed off.

Well, shit, Clark thought. That came out like he was a creepy stalker and it probably didn't help that he was a reporter for the Daily Planet. “If you're wondering if I have a shrine dedicated to you back in my bedroom, I don't,” Clark said, attempting humor, but it seemed that Bruce didn't think it was that funny. Clark sighed. “I'm sorry. I feel strange since the incident. I-” he stopped, put his cup down and stood up. “I'm sorry, I bothered you. Thank you for the tea.” 

Bruce stood as well, considering him. Clark knew Bruce well enough to know he was thinking this over hard and fast. 

“It was no bother, Clark,” Bruce replied. “Do you want me to call you a taxi?”

“That would be nice, yes. Thank you,” he could feel himself blush, because he hadn't really thought about that part of his hasty exit. He had a phone of course, but it would hardly be fun to wait outside of the gates for a car to pick him up. 

“Another cup of tea then?” Bruce asked. 

Clark nodded and sat down again.

Bruce poured him tea and then got his phone out to call a taxi. 

Clark didn't know what to do with himself. Everything he could or wanted to say would sound creepy or insane. 

“So, Clark, you're a reporter for the Daily Planet.” It wasn’t really a question, but Clark nodded anyway. 

“Yes.”

“I own that one,” Bruce said. 

“I imagine you don't usually invite your employees for tea,” Clark replied. 

Bruce smiled. That tiny smile that Clark kinda came to count as a win when he got it out of Bruce.  
“Well, only the pretty ones.” 

“I'm hurt,” Clark said and Bruce laughed. 

“You're here, aren't you, Clark?” 

Clark blinked and then blushed. Was Bruce messing with him or flirting? Probably messing around, because there was no way Bruce could be flirting with him. Bruce had a reputation. In fact, the first time they met he had been making a comment about pretty girls and bad habits. 

“I'm flattered,” Clark replied, “but I know it wasn't my looks that got me into the front door.” 

Bruce nodded his head in acknowledgment. It seemed to Clark, like he wanted to add something, but then there was a buzz and Bruce got up to get to see to it. “It's your taxi, Clark,” he said. 

Clark nodded and got up. “Thank you again for the help.” 

“I'm not sure I could really clear things up for you,” Bruce replied. 

Clark smiled. “That is hardly your fault,” he said and then he was outside and walking down the driveway to the gate. 

~+~

To say that he was surprised to hear from Bruce again, would be an understatement. 

“Coffee?” Clark asked like an idiot. 

Bruce did this thing with his lips that Clark was calling a hesitant smile in his head. It was more of a smirk really, he thought as he watched Bruce's lips. 

“Yes, Clark, coffee. If you're free. There is a place just two blocks away, we could walk,” Bruce answered. 

Clark nodded. “I am free. Just finished up in fact- but you already knew that.” 

Bruce neither denied nor confirmed that in true Batman fashion. Clark had done some digging and even if there was way less evidence of the Bat's existence in this world he was fairly sure that Bruce Wayne was in fact the Batman here too. Now that he had Bruce here, he was tempted to look underneath those clothes, his skin and flesh, right down to his bones to where he could see all the fractures, and then Clark remembered that he was human here. He would have to confirm his suspicions otherwise. 

Getting coffee with Bruce was a good start. 

“Excellent,” Bruce said and started walking.

Clark had to run a bit to catch up to him. It turned out, that Bruce was an excellent conversationalist. He made you feel like you had his undivided attention, he asked the right questions in all the right places. Clark only caught on to being interrogated one hour into the whole thing. It was just so subtle. And masked as friendly banter. He blinked at Bruce, stopping mid-sentence.

Bruce took a careful sip of his coffee. “Ah, you caught on. That was pretty fast.”

“You could have just asked,” Clark said. 

“I did,” Bruce pointed out. 

“I-” It was true, but it was also not true. “Why do you always have to play these games,” Clark said, massaging his temples, because he could feel a headache coming. And headaches were no fun. Now he understood why. 

“We’ve had three conversations so far, Clark, so why do I have the feeling you know more about me than I know about you?” Bruce’s tone was light, but there was steel and danger underneath it. It wasn't the Batman voice of course it wasn't, but Clark could hear it nevertheless underneath. 

Because I know more about you than I know about myself right now, Clark thought. But it was obvious that he could not tell Bruce that. 

“What do you want to know about me that you couldn’t find out using your computer?” Clark asked, instead of answering Bruce's question. It was a good thing that they were in a public place he thought suddenly. Bruce Wayne was still Batman, but Clark was human and hadn't gotten in a fight since – he couldn’t remember. Probably never. He had no illusions that Bruce could easily take him.  
He swallowed hard at the thought. He hadn't thought about being at Bruce's mercy in a long time, hadn't remembered looking up at Bruce from the filthy hard ground, knowing he was about to die. 

“I'm pretty sure what I want to know is something you don't want to tell me,” Bruce replied, leaning back in his chair and then signaling the waitress he wanted the check. It seemed their coffee-date was over. Clark sighed. 

“You would think I'm crazy,” he said. 

“Try me,” Bruce replied. 

The waitress came over to their table at that moment and they fell silent while Bruce paid and tipped well too. 

“Maybe not here,” Clark said. 

Bruce looked annoyed for a second, before he schooled his features and smiled. “Fine.” 

“Dinner? At my place, tomorrow. If you're free?” Clark asked, that would give him enough time to come up with a version of the truth that this Bruce could live with. And if he really was the Batman – and Clark had no doubt about that in his mind – then Bruce could probably help him solve this mystery. 

“Around seven?” Bruce asked, as they exited the cafe. 

“Yes,” Clark replied. “That works for me.” 

“See you there then,” Bruce said and waved a car over. And then he was gone, and hadn't even asked where Clark lived. But then, Clark thought wryly, he probably knew that already too. 

 

~Three~

Clark was seriously pressed for time. Doing everything at human speed was maddening when you were used to being faster than a speeding bullet. He also knew now why people shied away from beautiful apartments at the top floor without an elevator. 

The pasta was barely cooked when his doorbell rang. He wiped his hands on his apron and opened the door. 

Bruce looked – stunning. He raised his eyebrows at Clark. “I guess dinner isn’t ready yet?” 

“Good to see you too, please come in,” Clark replied a bit annoyed. What was wrong with him?  
Bruce nodded and followed him inside. While Clark hurried back to the kitchen, Bruce was obviously exploring his apartment. Clark was glad he already cleaned yesterday. 

“I didn’t think you would actually cook, Clark,” Bruce said, once he had apparently seen everything of interest.

“I invited you for dinner, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, you did. I was still somehow excepting Chinese takeout.” 

Clark turned from the stove to look at Bruce. “You dressed like this for Chinese takeout?” 

Bruce smirked. “Maybe I like Chinese takeout.” 

Clark didn’t know what to do with that statement. He was pretty sure that Bruce was in fact flirting with him and he had no idea what to do with that either. Bruce had never flirted with him. Bruce was only civil to be honest. Diana said that it was partly guilt, but Clark wasn’t so sure.  
“Well, too bad then, I didn’t know that beforehand. It’s my mom’s chicken pasta tonight.” 

“I’m sure it’s delicious too,” Bruce said. He leaned against the wall and watched Clark prepare their dinner. It was strange to feel that intense gaze on him in such a mundane and domestic setting. 

Clark itched to fill the silence between them, but he knew that it was Bruce’s way to make him talk, so he hummed a pop song he had heard this morning on the radio instead. Two could play that game after all. 

Once the food was ready he took out plates, cutlery, and glasses. 

“No wine?” Bruce asked. 

“I don’t drink,” Clark replied, he mostly didn’t because it didn’t do anything for him. He couldn’t get drunk, but maybe now he could. He hadn’t really thought about it. 

“Ever?”

Clark shrugged. “Not since I was a teenager.” 

Bruce nodded. “Water? Juice?” 

“In the fridge,” Clark said. “Help yourself.” 

Bruce did and then they sat down. They ate in silence, once Bruce complimented the pasta. 

“How do you feel about dessert?” Clark asked. 

Bruce gave him a look. “Dessert?” 

“Yes, I – made cake. Cake. And coffee.” Clark said a bit flustered and stood up, taking the dishes with him to the sink. 

“I’d love some cake and coffee, Clark.” 

Clark nodded. “You want to stay here or get comfortable in the living room?” He couldn’t see Bruce’s face as he had his back to Bruce, but he was pretty sure that Bruce was giving him that look again. Clark sighed under his breath. Well, he couldn’t help it that Bruce thought everything he said had some hidden meaning. Clark wasn’t trying to pick Bruce up. 

“The living room,” Bruce decided after a moment of silence. 

Clark nodded. 

~+~

“Okay,” Bruce said, once his cake was gone. He was looking at Clark sharply. “Talk.” 

Clark rubbed his neck. “As you see, I don’t have a creepy shrine to you in my bedroom.” 

Bruce nodded. “Yes, I know. I don’t think you are a stalker, Clark Kent.” 

Well, that was good then, wasn’t it? “Gee, thanks.” 

“Clark,” Bruce said and Clark could tell that Bruce’s patience was running out. 

“Okay, fine. Hear me out,” Clark said, getting up and pacing the small apartment. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I woke up in the hospital, but not in my body.” He stopped to look at Bruce. 

Bruce just looked back at him. “I’m still listening.” 

Clark exhaled. “I woke up in this body, but it’s not mine, and I don’t know how I got here or why I am here, or how I can get back. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you were there when I collapsed. That you were the one to find me. To help me, Bruce.” 

“I find it unnerving how easily you call me by my first name,” Bruce replied. 

“That is the part you want to focus on?” Clark asked, irritated. “You think, I’m insane. Don’t you? You think I hit my head and have delusions now, but I don’t. I know you. I’ve worked with you.” 

“Worked with me?” Bruce asked. 

All or nothing, Clark thought. “Yes, worked with you and Diana.” Because he had researched her too. She was active in this reality as well. “I know who you are, Batman.” 

Bruce was up and in his space in a matter of seconds. Clark was shocked at his sheer speed, at the strength with which he was curling his fingers around Clark’s throat and he remembered Bruce’s foot, he remembered. “I thought you might react a bit better this time around,” he got out. 

Bruce blinked and let go of him, took a step back. “I – I don’t usually react that way when someone confronts me with – Batman.” 

“Well,” Clark said. “I have always been a special case, it seems.” 

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face. “Start at the beginning.” 

There was no room for arguing in his voice and Clark was so tired of keeping it all in. He told Bruce everything: about how he came out to the world, about Zod, about how they met, how Lex had played them, how he died and came back, how they started to train and work together and then about his fall and how he woke up here. Human. 

“Most things are the same, I am not,” Clark finished. 

“You realize this is hard to believe, right?” 

Clark laughed. “You work with a goddess, Bruce. A goddess.” 

Bruce nodded in acknowledgment. “You did your research of this world, I presume?” 

Clark nodded. “Yes.” 

“So you know that there was no Superman, that there was no Zod? That I didn’t lose Wayne Financial in Metropolis?” 

“Yes,” Clark said. “I went by it last night. It’s still there and I assume that everyone who died there in my world, that they live here. I – that Lex Luthor didn’t unleash Doomsday on the world because there was no me.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bruce said. 

Clark looked at him, startled. “I – I could have been more careful about it. I could have tried harder to get him out of the city. I – you think it was my fault. You hated me for it. You tried to kill me because you thought I was a danger to the world.” 

“I didn’t,” Bruce said, gently. “Because it never happened to me.”

Clark didn’t know what to say to that. “You believe me then?” 

“Why would you make that up? Why risk my anger by telling me you know how I like to spend my nights?” 

It was at the tip of Clark’s tongue to tell Bruce that he knew that wasn’t the only way he liked to spend his nights, but he bit it back. “Yeah.” 

“So you want my help to get back to where you belong?” 

“Yes,” Clark answered. 

“Why?” Bruce asked. 

“Because I don’t belong here.” 

“Don’t you? You have a life here, Clark. You have a nice apartment, you are employed in the profession you like, and you don’t have a heavy past on your shoulders.” 

“I don’t have my abilities,” Clark replied. 

“Do you miss them so much?” 

“Of course I miss them, wouldn’t you miss being Batman? Helping people?” 

“I’ve always wondered,” Bruce said, “if that’s what I’m doing.” 

Clark hadn’t know that Bruce had doubted himself. Or was it only this Bruce? This Bruce who hadn’t lost so much. “Will you help me?” 

“Yes,” Bruce answered. “I will help you Clark.” 

“Thank you.” 

“But to be honest, I have no idea where to even start.” 

Well, Clark thought, that made two of them. 

~+~

They began at the beginning. The building where Clark had collapsed. It wasn’t the building he had been flying over in his world, of that he was sure. For one it was in Metropolis and not Gotham. 

“So you were flying, trying to reach me?” 

“Yes, and then I was hit. I heard your voice, telling Diana I was down. And then I woke up in the hospital.” 

“But I saw you walking here, you were holding a cup of coffee,” Bruce said. 

“I can’t remember that at all,” Clark replied frustrated. No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t remember this part. Or that he had said Bruce’s name in the car on the way to the hospital.

“Strange,” Bruce said. 

Clark laughed. “Yeah.” 

Once Bruce had inspected the scene, and there probably wasn’t much left in the way of clues after a week, they made their way to a small café on the corner. 

Clark was getting used to being human, slowly but steadily and he didn’t know if he liked it or not. “Have you told Diana about me? Barry?”

“No,” Bruce replied. 

Clark frowned. “Why not?” 

“Why does it matter? If we get you home, their identities are safe.” 

“They are safe now too, Bruce.” 

Bruce sighed. “You might think that, but what if you were captured and tortured, you think you could withstand that?” 

Clark swallowed. He didn’t know. Human pain (so much every day, really) was a new concept to him. “I don’t know.” 

“I bet that is not the answer you wanted to give me. I bet it’s not the one you would have given your Bruce.”

Clark nodded. Both statements were true. “He’s different from you.” 

“I can imagine,” Bruce replied. “I bet he never went out for coffee with you. You never invited him back to your place for dinner.” 

Clark smiled. “No, that’s not how we work.”

“And do you miss it,” Bruce asked. “How you two work?” 

Did he? He didn’t know. This here was nice, but it wasn’t real. “I wish we could be friends. He and I. I think we can with time.” 

Bruce nodded. “If he’s anything like me, he will come around, eventually. You said he is already working with Diana.” 

“He is, I think she is good for him,” Clark replied. It was the truth too. 

“I think you being around him is good for him too, Clark.” 

Clark made a face. “He works with me, but he’s friends with Diana.” 

“You will wear him down, Clark.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Because you’re good and charming,” Bruce answered. 

Clark blinked. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask, but – but he wanted to know. “Are you flirting with me?” 

“What if I am? Would that make you uncomfortable?”

Would it? Was it? Clark took a moment to think about it. No, he decided, it did not make him uncomfortable. It was strange for sure, because he had never been hit on by a man, and because this was Bruce, but it was not making him uncomfortable. 

“No,” Clark answered. 

“Good,” Bruce said. “How about dinner then?” 

“Just to be sure here,” Clark said, licking his lips. “You are asking me out, right? This is you asking me out on a date, not – not dinner with a friend?”

Bruce leaned back in the chair and looked at him. “Yes, it is, but if you don’t want to, it can be dinner between friends.” 

“So you like men?” 

“I like you,” Bruce said. “I think you’re interesting, you’re obviously smart and good looking.”  
Clark felt himself blush again. Damn it, being human came with a lot of small traps he was constantly falling into. 

“Answer the question please,” Clark said. 

“Yes, I like men too, but I don’t date them as much.” 

“Is that something that is widely known here?” Clark asked, intrigued. 

“Did you read about it in the gossip magazines?” 

“No,” Clark replied. “But I wasn’t looking for your romantic entanglements,” Clark answered. 

“I’m not hiding it, but I’m not parading it around,” Bruce said. 

That was fair, Clark thought. “Okay.” 

“Okay? Okay, what? Clark.”

“Yes, I would like to have dinner with you,” Clark replied. 

Bruce’s smile was a thing of beauty. 

 

~Four~

Three months later and Clark was still not one step closer to finding out how he got here and how he would get home. 

Three months into this life and he wasn’t sure he wanted to get back to his old life. 

Especially in moments like this: when Bruce had Clark’s cock in his hand and was kissing him so good Clark felt lightheaded. There was something to be said about being human, especially being human and having Bruce kissing him, having Bruce’s fingers curled around his neck, about Bruce’s mouth and teeth leaving tiny marks of ownership all over Clark’s body. 

Bruce’s thumb swept over the head of Clark’s cock and he was shaking with his orgasm. Bruce smiled into his skin and then licked it, breathing Clark in. 

“Good?” He asked and he sounded smug. 

Clark was still impossibly fond of the rough, teasing quality of Bruce’s voice right now. 

“You know it was,” Clark replied. He was feeling too boneless to do more than turn his head so he could kiss Bruce’s cheek. 

Bruce was still gently cradling his cock and it was – good. Clark had been wholly unprepared for the sex with Bruce. Not for the focus and intensity, but for the gentleness and playfulness Bruce displayed. 

“One of these days, we’re gonna make it to the bed,” Bruce laughed and then moaned when Clark skimmed his fingers against his still covered cock. 

“Hmm,” Clark hummed. “Not this time.”

Bruce laughed. “No, not this time,” he replied. 

Clark slid his hand into Bruce’s pants and curled his fingers around Bruce’s hot skin. It was different from pleasuring a woman for sure, but it wasn’t strange, wasn’t alien. It felt good to have Bruce’s lips against his skin, his fingers on his cock. It was a high to make Bruce’s breath hard and fast, to make him moan Clark’s name when he came all over Clark’s fingers. 

Bruce kissed him as soon as he calmed down a bit. Clark loved the way Bruce kissed. With precision, focus, skill and so much hot passion.

He loved pretty much everything about being with Bruce. Even Lois' teasing. 

~+~

“I have to cancel dinner,” Bruce said. 

No shit, Clark thought. His fingers were itching for his own suit, he hated this. He hated it. “Stay safe,” he said and only waited for Bruce to tell him he would before he disconnected the call. It was not a global crisis, because Bruce would not have called him then, but still. He was sidelined. He could only watch as Batman, Wonder Woman, and the Flash teamed up to fight a very powerful metahuman. 

He wondered how Lois had dealt with those kinds of situations and then he remembered that he hadn't been human, but that Bruce was. Even here in this alternate reality he was still just a man. Just human. Just like Clark. 

Clark wanted to punch something hard, but the last time he did that he bruised his knuckles badly.  
There was nothing to do but watch the news or be there, but he knew that Bruce hated it when Clark was where the catastrophes were, because he couldn't help but worry about Clark. 

Clark was fine staying out of it, mostly, because he did not want to die. He was afraid of dying in fact, was very aware he was easily hurt. He was afraid for Bruce too. 

He switched the TV off, because there weren't any news anyway. Bruce would call as soon as the danger had passed. He always did. 

~+~

“Before, I could have speed here,” Clark said, grabbing Bruce by the shirt and pulling him in. He needed to feel Bruce against his skin. He needed to taste Bruce, listen to Bruce's heart, feel the life inside him. 

“Clark,” Bruce said, but Clark shut him up with a hard kiss. 

Bruce kissed him back and let Clark walk him backwards to the bedroom, where he pushed Bruce onto the bed. 

Clark took one moment to look at Bruce and then he stripped off his shirt, flung it behind him and started on his pants, shoes, socks and underwear. Once he was done he crawled over Bruce and kissed him again. This time a bit gentler. But he was still very hungry for Bruce's taste and smell.

He nibbled at Bruce's neck and Bruce moaned, loudly. “Clark.”

“I want you,” Clark said simply, blindly reaching out to the nightstand drawer where he knew that Bruce kept the lube and condoms, not that they had used the condoms yet. Clark was about to change that tonight. 

Bruce's fingers tightened on Clark's hips. Clark finally fished out the lube and condoms and handed them over to Bruce. They had played around with lube and fingers more than once, and Clark loved when Bruce made him come that way. 

“I'm willing and naked,” Clark said, “How do you want me?” 

“On your back,” Bruce decided after a moment. 

Clark nodded and got comfortable on the big bed. He spread his legs in invitation and Bruce groaned. 

He stripped off his shirt and then leaned down so he could kiss Clark. It was a passionate and long kiss. It left Clark breathless and even harder and more desperate for Bruce's touch. 

Bruce kissed his way down Clark's body: lips, cheek, chin, neck, down to his collarbone and then over his chest to his stomach. Clark's hands curled to fists in the sheets. His cock was leaking, but Bruce wasn't touching him there, he was playing with Clark's bellybutton, in fact, Clark realized and moaned, he was tongue fucking his belly button.

“Now Bruce, now,” Clark grit out. 

Bruce's laughed against his skin. “I haven't even started yet.” True to his words Bruce tortured Clark with his lips, tongue and fingers for what felt to Clark like an eternity but was probably closer to twenty minutes before he kissed the underside of Clark's cock and then started to play with his hole. Clark went boneless as soon as the first digit was inside him. 

“I love how you just open up for me,” Bruce said, his voice was raw. Clark knew this didn't leave him unaffected either.

Clark pushed against Bruce's finger and Bruce took the hint: he added another one and started to play and stretch Clark. On every other stroke, he hit Clark's prostate and Clark got harder and wetter. He let Bruce play for about a minute with three fingers inside him before he grabbed Bruce's wrist and made him look at Clark. “Now, Bruce. I want you inside me now.” 

Bruce nodded, kissed Clark hard and then grabbed the condom, put it on, lubed himself up and grabbed Clark's legs to hold him open. He pushed in slowly, holding himself steady. There was sweat at his temples and Clark wanted to lean up and lick it away. He started to do that and Bruce groaned, his cock slipped all the way inside Clark and he breathed heavily as he bottomed out. “Fuck, Clark.” 

Clark fell back into the pillows. Feeling Bruce inside him, hot and hard, and big, it was incredible. “You feel so good, Bruce.” 

Bruce groaned and his fingers tightened on Clark's thighs. He started to move and everything became too much and not enough. Soon Clark was meeting Bruce thrust for thrust. 

“Bruce, close, touch me,” Clark got out between moans. 

Bruce curled a hand around his cock and stroked. It only took a couple of strokes before Clark was shaking with his orgasm, clenching hard around Bruce's length inside him. 

He lay there and enjoyed Bruce thrusting into him, chasing his own release. It didn't take Bruce long. Clark pulled him against his chest, keeping him close. 

He kissed Bruce's cheek and tightened his arms around him until Bruce's breathing event out to normal. 

“What brought that on? Not that I am complaining,” Bruce asked, pulling away to deal with the condom. He was back a moment later, lying next to Clark: their fingers intertwined. 

“I thought it was time. I was horny as soon as I saw you,” Clark said, of course that was not the whole truth. 

Bruce sighed. “Let's try that again, Clark.” 

“I was horny,” Clark said, “But I also needed to know that you are okay. I hate being sidelined. I hate being useless.” 

“You are not useless, Clark,” Bruce replied, turning so he could look at Clark's profile. 

“I know I am not. But I feel like I am. Back – before, I could have helped you today. Instead I was sitting at home and waiting for your call, so I knew you were okay, Bruce.” 

“Do you think about your abilities often?” Bruce asked, gently. 

“Every day,” Clark answered frustrated. 

“It's been months and we haven't found a clue why you're here and how you got here.”

“I know,” Clark replied. 

“Do you still want to go home?” Bruce asked and his voice was carefully neutral. Clark knew Bruce, this Bruce and the Bruce back home, and that was never a good sign. 

He wanted his abilities back, but he didn't want to lose Bruce. “What does it matter? I can't.” 

Bruce kissed his cheek and then stood. “I matters, Clark. It matters to me.” 

“I love you,” Clark blurred out, suddenly afraid Bruce would leave him. 

Bruce looked down at him, his lips curved, but it wasn't really a smile. “I know. I wish that would make it easier, but it doesn't.” 

“Bruce-”

“Be honest now, Clark, if you would find a way to go back, would you leave?” 

“I don't know,” Clark said. 

Bruce nodded, like he had expected that answer. 

“Bruce-”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Bruce said, “Except for the bathroom to grab a washcloth.” 

Clark closed his eyes. “I'll be waiting right here.” 

Bruce didn't answer.

~+~

It wasn’t that it all went downhill from there, except in the small ways where it counted the most. Bruce was gone on patrol more often. Clark hardly saw him for two weeks after they had the talk. He hadn’t expected that behavior from this Bruce, but in hindsight he should have. He was still Bruce after all. 

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Clark said as soon as Bruce opened the door. 

“What for?” Bruce asked, letting him in. 

By now, Clark knew every part of Bruce’s display box of a home. He had the code to the front gate for god’s sake. They were – they were partners. Lovers. Shouldn’t that be enough? 

“You know what for,” Clark answered frustrated. “I hurt you. That’s what I’m sorry for.” 

“You only told me the truth, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t known. You don’t think you belong here and nothing can change that.” 

The not even me, was unsaid, but Clark heard it loud and clear. 

“Maybe, but what does it matter? I’m here now and I’m with you and-”

“And you’re constantly waiting to leave, Clark,” Bruce said, sharply. 

“That’s not true,” Clark replied, because it wasn’t. It was true that he thought about his lost abilities a lot, that he thought about his own world a lot, that he thought about the other Bruce and wondered, but. But: he was also enjoying being human, doing all the things he couldn’t do when he had been – well, him. The novelty of having finger shaped bruises on his hips, or teeth marks on his thighs, of being able to let go and fuck Bruce with all his strength, because he couldn’t do any more damage than Bruce could. They were equals here. 

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose that wasn’t entirely fair of me.” 

“I get it,” Clark said, because he did. Bruce was afraid of losing him. 

“I like to plan, I like to have a plan and a plan B and C and D,” Bruce said, grabbing a bottle and pouring himself a whisky. Clark had decided that he did not like the taste of whisky, so Bruce stopped offering it. 

“And you can’t plan for this?” Clark asked, unbelieving. “Why not? There is no evidence whatsoever that I will go home anytime soon. I mean it’s been months Bruce and I am still here.”

“Yes, it’s been months and yes, you are still here, but you’re also still hoping to somehow go back, to somehow get your abilities back.” He sighed, finished his drink and poured a new one. “And you can’t build a life like that.” 

Clark let that sink in. Bruce was in love with him. He hadn’t said it, not once, but it hit Clark in that moment like a rock to the head. Bruce was in love with him and he wanted to have a life with Clark.  
He grabbed the nearest armchair and sat down. 

“I – do you want to end things?” Clark asked, looking up at Bruce. 

“No, Clark!” Bruce said sharply. 

The relief Clark felt at those words was so sharp, it hurt. “Good, because I don’t want to end things either, Bruce.” He got up then and pulled Bruce into a kiss. He could taste Bruce’s desperation in that kiss and he wanted to make it better. 

More than anything he wanted for Bruce to be happy. 

But their future was uncertain. 

Was it more uncertain than most couples’ he wondered? 

“I know you’re afraid of losing me with no explanation, but I am too. You run around every night fighting crime, fighting monsters, fighting things that could kill you, Bruce.” He kissed Bruce again. “And I can’t protect you either. Because I won’t ask you to quit being Batman, Bruce,” he added. Clark could never do that, not again. He’s tried before, when he didn’t understand how much Bruce needed to be Batman. What a big part of his life it was. 

“I know you won’t,” Bruce said. 

“Every couple’s future is uncertain,” Clark said gently. “You have to know that.” 

Bruce nodded and kissed him this time. 

They didn’t make it to the bedroom. 

~+~

“It’s Lois,” Clark said, “It might be important.” They were standing in line, getting coffee and Danishes because Bruce had surprised him during lunch. 

Bruce kissed his cheek. “I’ll be fine, go and talk to her.” 

Clark nodded, Bruce was just finishing up anyway, he only had to grab their order and pay for it. And it would be less noisy outside the café. The phone was still buzzing in his hand and he took the call on his short way to the sidewalk. “Yes?” 

“Clark,” Lois said and there was this excited glee in her voice that told him she had a breakthrough on the story. It also told him that he would probably spend the night with her working on it at the office. He would make it up to Bruce later. Maybe with some dinner and then a nice long rimming.  
He turned around so he could look at Bruce while he was talking to Lois, smiling and then he felt the impact, the fall, his head crashing against the pavement. 

Then nothing. 

 

~Five~

“Bruce!” Clark woke with a gasp to muted light. It wasn’t a hospital bed. It smelled like Bruce and leather and wood. The sheets were soft. He could smell the lake outside and calmed down. 

“Clark,” Bruce said from the door. 

Clark blinked. He could make out every detail in the room. He could smell the lake, he could hear – shit, he could head Bruce’s steady heartbeat. 

“I’m back,” he said, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He had smelled Bruce everywhere, because his sense were that good, but now he knew there was no hint of Bruce on that pillow, or the sheets. It wasn’t Bruce’s bed. It was a guest room. This wasn’t the Bruce who loved him. This was – this was –the one who had tried to kill him. 

“Back?” Bruce asked, a note of curiosity in his voice. 

Clark couldn’t answer. His heart felt broken. His throat was closing up. He felt – incomplete. Crippled. He was back and he had his abilities, he could feel how different his body was, he could hear everything if he wanted to, he could smell Bruce, his sweat, his cologne. 

He had lost the most important thing. 

Was the other Bruce standing over his hospital bed now? Wondering what happened, wondering if Clark would ever wake up? 

“Clark?” Bruce asked. 

“I can’t. Could you leave, please, just leave,” he said and turned away, so he didn’t have to see the look on Bruce’s face. It didn’t help much, anyway, because he could still hear Bruce and smell him and it was overpowering. 

But he didn’t have the strength now to get out of this bed. He curled into a ball and waited for Bruce to leave before he allowed himself to break down and mourn his loss. 

~+~

He had done a quick internet search and knew now that he had been away – somewhere else – only seven days. Those seven days felt like seven months where he had been. He and Bruce had planned a holiday for their first anniversary. And now. And now…Clark took a deep breath and then just kept sitting on the bed, staring at the screen until a soft knock made him move.

“Are you okay?” Diana asked. 

Clark shook his head. “No.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“What do you want?” Diana asked. 

“I want to go home,” Clark replied. He didn’t mean his empty half furnished apartment in Metropolis, or his old room at the farm in Kansas. He meant home: where Bruce was. 

“Clark,” she said helplessly. Clark knew she knew. She had to know. Probably recognized the look on his face, because she had worn it herself before. Loss. Deep, profound loss. 

“I just can’t be here, right now,” Clark said. 

“I understand,” Diana replied. “Please call us as soon as you can.” 

“I will,” he said, and grabbed his Superman suit. 

As soon as she left the room he was dressed and opening the door so he could escape Bruce’s home, his scent, his looks, his heartbeat. He didn’t look back. 

~+~

Clark hid out on the farm for two weeks, and made his mom worry, but he couldn’t explain to her. Didn’t even know where to start. 

Seven days here, a lifetime there. 

He didn’t know how to talk to Bruce, how to be around Bruce. And he knew that he had to figure it out because they were teammates, because Bruce relied on him – and that had thrilled Clark before – but now it seemed like such a small thing. Now that he knew that he and Bruce could be so much more. So much better. 

He was on sick leave from the Planet and did as little as possible as Superman. He still helped people of course, but sneakily mostly, as himself. 

Clark knew that couldn’t last. 

~+~

He heard the car before he recognized the heartbeat. For a split second he wanted to climb out the window and take to the sky, so he could avoid what was coming. 

Clark knew it wouldn’t be pleasant at all. 

He wasn’t over Bruce and he knew it would take months to get somewhere resembling normal.  
But he knew Bruce and Bruce would try again. 

Bruce was only here, because Clark hadn’t been talking to him. Had ditched his calls, had asked Diana or Barry to help Bruce out when he requested assistance. 

He had been avoiding Bruce and Bruce had let him for a while, but it seemed that he was done with giving Clark space. 

He met Bruce on the porch. “Walk with me?” 

Bruce gave him a look, but then nodded. 

Clark chose a random direction, it didn’t matter. All he needed right now was open space. When Bruce deemed them to be far away from the house, he started to speak. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

It wasn’t a question, and Clark was too tired to lie. “Yes.” 

There was a long moment of silence before Bruce spoke again. “I monitored your vitals while you were unconsciousness. But you weren’t merely unconsciousness, were you? You were dreaming. ” 

“I wasn’t dreaming,” Clark replied, looking up at the sky. “I was somewhere else. Living.” 

“Living?” 

“Yes, living. I was human there, no powers, no Kal-El, no Zod, no Lex kidnapping the people I love. You didn’t hate me,” he added, it was barely a whisper. 

“And now, you’ve had a hard time adjusting?” Bruce asked. His voice was soft, but carefully bland. Clark realized he didn’t know this Bruce, not as well as he had thought he knew Bruce. 

“Yes.” 

“We can train-” 

Oh, Clark thought. “It’s not about my abilities, Bruce. I’ve had them all my life and my body knows what it has to do. I am not hiding out here because I think I’m dangerous.” 

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do,” Clark replied. And how could Bruce? He didn’t know anything. Clark hadn’t told anyone. And he surely couldn’t tell Bruce. Couldn’t burden Bruce with his own feelings. 

“When you first woke up, you called my name,” Bruce said. “You sounded panicked.” 

Clark had no answer to that, at least not one he could give Bruce. 

“That life there, the one you were living, it was with me, wasn’t it?” 

Clark said nothing, his heart was beating too fast in his chest, his throat was dry. He nodded. 

“You’re not transparent, if you’re wondering. Anyone else most likely wouldn’t have figured it out, Clark. But I am me. And I’ve been doing this longer, than I’ve been Batman.” 

This, Clark thought. “This being what?” 

“Observing people, putting clues together,” Bruce answered. “The last one was today, when you told me that I didn’t hate you. It wasn’t the words, it was the way you said it.” 

Clark laughed without humor. 

“I don’t hate you,” Bruce added. “I think I never really did. It was just easier to project my guilt, fear, and anger onto you.” 

Seven days ago this would have meant a lot to Clark, right now he didn’t know what to do with it. Part of him was glad, of course, another part…couldn’t stand being so close to Bruce without being able to touch him, pull him into a kiss, press him against a wall and make him moan. 

“I’m glad you told me,” Clark replied eventually. 

“I won’t press you to come back, but you have to know, that we need you,” Bruce said after another long silence. 

“I know. I just – can’t. Right now. It will get better,” Clark said, more to himself than Bruce really. He had been here before with Lois. When he came back from the dead. When no time had passed for him, but all the time in the world had passed for her. They had tried to make it work, but failed. And then they had clawed their way back to friendship and Clark knew that he could do it. Could do it with Bruce. Would do it with Bruce. And that he would succeed. 

But right now the loss was still too fresh and Bruce so close to him was a constant reminder of what he could not have. 

“Clark?” Bruce asked, as they were circling back to the farm house. 

“Yes?” 

“How was he?” 

Clark swallowed, looked at Bruce’s profile. “He was you,” he answered helplessly. “He was you.” 

Bruce nodded and kept silent. 

They said their goodbyes and Clark didn’t watch Bruce get into his expensive car, and didn’t watch him drive away. 

~+~

It took some time, but Clark got slowly back into the fray. He went back to work and it was good, because he had to think about something else, and Perry being Perry was a welcome distraction. Lois didn’t let him brood either, at least not at work. 

He moved back to his own apartment and started to fix it up and buy furniture, so he could call it a home and not only a place to snatch a few hours of sleep. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce. He tried, but it just wasn't happening. Sometimes when he, Diana and Bruce went out, Bruce would do something that reminded him of the Bruce he loved. They had a lot of the same mannerisms.

It took Clark sometimes by surprise how much he wanted to reach out and just pull Bruce in and kiss him. 

On occasion, he had actually started to reach out and then Bruce had looked up from whatever he had been doing and the look in his eyes made Clark stop dead. It wasn't an unkind look, but it wasn't the want and love he got used to seeing there either. And it hurt. Bruce never mentioned it, just got back to whatever he had been doing before Clark had interrupted him by reaching out for something that he could not have anymore. 

~+~

“How did you deal?” Clark asked Diana. It was week ten after he woke up. 

“I’ve had more time to deal and heal. Your loss is still very fresh,” Diana answered gently. 

“Yes, but you – you went on, you-”

“Actually, I really didn't,” Diana confessed. “I hid until I could face people again.”

Clark sighed. “I don't have that option.” 

Diana smiled at him wryly. “Yes, you do. You can take as much time as you need.” 

“That is not what Bruce said when he came to see me,” Clark said. 

“Bruce doesn't know everything. And everyone deals differently with loss. Bruce gets angry when he loses something. He gets meaner. But that is not the way for you. That has never been the way for you, Clark,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “And if you want to hide for a while, then that is fine too. I will talk to Bruce, so he stops pressuring you.” She sighed. “He was really worried about you.” 

Clark had never really stopped to think what it had been like for the people who had watched him sleep for seven days. For his mom, for Diana, Lois. And Bruce.

“He kept me in his guestroom,” Clark said. He had thought before, that it had been because they had been in Metropolis when he fell and Gotham had been close and Bruce's home was safe, but Bruce was really fucking rich and he could have had him transferred to Kansas. Out of his way, out of his life. 

“He did,” Diana replied. “He kept watch over you the whole time. You can ask your mother if you don't believe me.” 

“I believe you,” Clark said. “But what does it mean?” 

Diana shrugged. “That he cares about you.” 

Obviously, Clark thought. But did it mean that there was a chance of more with this Bruce too? Could it be that Bruce had feelings for him too? And if he did, why hadn't he said anything when he had visited Clark on the farm? “Diana-”

“Because you're still mourning your lost lover, Clark. That is why. The timing...it's just not right. How can he be sure now that it's him you want? That he isn't just an inadequate copy?” 

How indeed, Clark thought. “Shit.” 

“Should I not have said anything?” Diana asked. 

“No, it's good that I know,” Clark decided after he thought about it for a moment. 

Maybe he had said yes to the other Bruce, because he had already been curious about this Bruce. Clark knew that he would have never made the first move, would have never really considered it, because Bruce – fucking Bruce Wayne with all his supermodels and society ladies. 

“I would be very happy for you two, Clark,” Diana said. 

“Thank you, Diana.” 

“You are welcome,” she replied and leaned in to kiss his cheek. 

He was really glad that he had her in his life now, too. 

~+~ 

Clark took a week off from training and League business, so he would be able to think. To think back to their beginnings, right after he had come back. It hadn’t been unicorns and rainbows at all. Bruce had been suspicious, of course. But they had been able to leave the past in the past. And then they had started to train together, to combine their strengths and became teammates. Sometimes, Clark had thought they were on their way to being friends, but maybe that had never really happened because Bruce had felt something more – had felt it before Clark had. 

He couldn’t be sure, of course not, because this was Bruce. The only thing to do was ask point blank and maybe Bruce would tell him the truth. 

Mind made up he flew to the Lakehouse. 

Clark had half a second where he thought about using the door, but then he just flew right over the house and landed on the deck behind it. He could hear two heartbeats inside and knocked on the glass. Alfred smiled as he let Clark in. 

“Good to see you Sir, it had been too long,” Alfred said. 

“Good to see you too, Alfred,” Clark replied and it was the honest to god truth. He had always liked Alfred. “Is Bruce down in the cave?” 

Alfred sighed. “Where else would he be at this hour?” 

“Right, is it alright if I just go down?” 

“Certainly, Sir. Would you like me to bring some refreshments down?” 

“No, thank you, Alfred,” Clark replied, because he really didn't need interruptions when he was going to try and coax feelings out of Bruce.

“Very well, if you should change your mind, I'll be here,” Alfred said. 

Clark nodded and then went to the Cave. 

Bruce was tinkering with the cowl, and he didn't look up when Clark approached. Clark sighed. “You know it's a dickmove to make Alfred open the door and make small talk when you know that I'm here to see you.” 

“You could have called. I could have been busy.” 

“You’re always busy, Bruce,” Clark replied. “You have time to talk?” 

Bruce nodded and put the cowl aside. “Yes.” 

“I talked to Diana,” Clark began and listened to Bruce's heartbeat, but it was steady as ever. It didn't mean anything, Bruce could lie with his body. “And I've been thinking, remembering really. I mean,” he stopped, took a breath and looked at Bruce. “Would you have asked me out at some point if this hadn’t happened?” 

“Probably not,” Bruce answered. 

“But you have – feelings for me,” Clark said. 

“Is this a question?” Bruce replied. 

“Yes, Bruce. I know the whole situation is really messed up, but please don't shut this down now.”

“Yes, I have feelings for you,” Bruce answered. “They were inconvenient before and are more so now.” 

“Of course you would think that,” Clark said. 

“Of course you would not,” Bruce replied. 

“Me and you, we were good together.” 

“You and him were good together,” Bruce said. 

“You are him!” 

“But I'm not. He didn't try to kill you. He didn't fail you.” 

“That's because he hadn't lost so much,” Clark said gently. 

“Loss makes you a different person,” Bruce argued. 

“Everything I saw in him, I see in you too, Bruce.” Clark said. “I'm aware that this is a different situation and that you think you are not worth the effort, but shouldn’t I be the judge of that?” 

“What do you want Clark?” Bruce asked. 

“A date,” Clark answered. He had thought about it long and hard. And all he wanted was a chance. 

“Clark-”

“I know what you think, that I'm looking for a substitute, but I am not. You are him and you are not him. But you're not so different, the core of you. It's – the part I loved, love, about him, I see that in you too and I know now that I had seen it before my fall. I just didn't realize what it was, because – hell, because it was you and it never crossed my mind that you could want me too.” By the end he didn't even know if he made any sense. He waited for Bruce's reaction, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“All you want is a date?” 

“Yes,” Clark answered. 

“And if it doesn't work?” 

“If it doesn't work, we'll go back to how things were – working on our friendship,” Clark said. 

“Okay,” Bruce said after a long moment. 

“Okay,” Clark said, knowing he was beaming. 

Bruce's lips curled into a smile. “Now get out and let me work.” 

“See you soon, Bruce.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said. “See you soon.” 

 

~Epilogue: Three months later~

“You did not just ask me that,” Clark said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I think it is a fair question,” Bruce replied. He was half naked and it was actually hard to not let his eyes wander, but Clark managed because this was important. And they should have talked about it before. To be honest, Clark hadn't thought that they would even need to talk about it. There had been handjobs and blowjobs and fingers inside, so really. 

“I did everything – or the basics or whatever. He had been very creative in bed.” 

Bruce's lips tightened. 

Clark threw his hands up. “I can't believe you're still not over it. I can't – it was you who fucked me first.” 

“Clark, you were in a coma. There is really no proof whatsoever that you were somewhere else.”

Clark hated it when Bruce was right and Bruce was right way too often for Clark's liking. He and Diana had both told Clark what happened once he fell and about the days and nights after. How he had been in a coma for seven days. They had done what they could to keep him alive, but it had been of course harder with Clark being from Krypton. 

Bruce thought that because Clark wasn't human, the coma was more like a really long and elaborate dream. 

Clark wasn't sold on that explanation. It had all felt so real. 

“I know. But it still felt very real. Also: there is no proof I wasn't in some other Clark's body, one that didn't have superpowers. One that was human. Stranger things had happened.” 

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. Clark was pretty sure that the sex they were about to have just ten minutes ago – hot, hard, passionate sex on the bed and then against the wall – was not going to happen now. “Besides did I behave like a virgin?” Clark added. 

“You weren't a virgin. You’ve had plenty experience with women.” 

“And you,” Clark said, stubbornly. Because he remembered the first time Bruce had fucked him, the first time he had been inside Bruce. And it all had felt real. He knew what he was doing. He didn't need a manual or a youtube video, thank you very much.

“Clark -”

“You realize that you’ve totally ruined the mood, right?” 

“Excuse me for being big on consent,” Bruce said sharply. 

Clark sighed. “I am willing. I want you inside me and I am not a virgin. I can take your cock. I think I can take it better now than before, because I am not human now. Your cock, Bruce, can't hurt me.” 

“So you want me to just assume that you are fine with whatever I have planned?” 

“No, I like that you're asking, but maybe not when you have two fingers in me and I am desperate for it. Withdrawing then and having a talk – not good, Bruce.” Clark shook his head, shit, but this was getting kinda funny now. He grabbed the sheet and put it around his shoulders. 

Bruce uncurled from his defensive pose and crossed over where Clark was getting comfortable on the bed. “Scoot over,” he said and Clark did. 

Bruce's body was touching his from shoulder to hip and it felt nice. “So...I'm sorry, but I'm so not hard anymore.” 

Bruce laughed. “Yeah, me neither.” 

“Next time when I tell you to get your cock inside me and fuck me like your life depends on it, please take me at face value,” Clark said and Bruce groaned. 

“I will,” Bruce replied. 

“Promise?” Clark asked, touching his pinky to Bruce's on the crumbled sheets. 

Bruce looked down at their fingers and then at Clark. “Promise.” 

“Good,” Clark said. He leaned his head against Bruce's shoulder and closed his eyes. Just breathing Bruce in. Everything was different now, even this. Because he was so much more aware of Bruce, because there were never any finger shaped bruises to trace later. 

But it was good, and Clark was home and he was with the person he loved.

He just hoped that the other Bruce, if he hadn't been a figment of Clark's imagination, was happy too.


End file.
